


Harry Potter and the Phantom Twin

by NumberTwenty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6730177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NumberTwenty/pseuds/NumberTwenty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to a malfunction of the Horcrux in his forehead, Harry is able to see and interact with his "twin" from a parallel universe. At first he believes her to be an imaginary friend, but once they get to Hogwarts they know that something weird is going on. The two must work together to defeat Voldemort twice, if they can manage to not get sent to St. Mungos for talking to themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for checking out my story! I plan on updating every Wednesday. Big thanks to the kind TheMisprint over a FFN for helping to make it all come together as nicely as possible.

Even Number Four Privet Drive can seem welcoming when outlined with enough Christmas lights. Harry Potter looked at the shining colors with approval and pride from his place on the ladder balanced against the home's outer wall. He was five years old, and Uncle Vernon had decided that he was old enough to hang the lights for the Dursleys all by himself. It didn't really seem like this was intended to be a fun gift for him, but he couldn't help but enjoy being a part of even one family Christmas tradition. It just didn't happen often enough.

Despite the Dursley's best efforts, Harry always loved Christmas. Perhaps not the day itself, of course. Unwrapping an old sock while watching his cousin complain that his new remote-controlled cars wouldn't burn when he crashed them into each other tended make him feel a little bit sad. Harry also wished that he could eat some of the delicious-smelling Christmas dinners that everyone else got to enjoy. Still, the days leading up to it were nice. There were mesmerizing lights, sights, nice smells, songs, and his teacher had even given him a Christmas cracker on the last day of school before the holidays. All of those were still only festive promises of warmth and family, never fulfilled. But Uncle Vernon had asked Harry to help light the house! He stared into the twinkling lights, not quite ready to climb back down to the ground and staying oblivious to the world around him.

His first clue that someone was there was when the ladder began to shake and move, making a great rattling noise as it rocked slightly. The next was his pig of a cousin's voice taunting him.

"Come on, Harry!" he yelled between kicks. "Don't you have chores to be doing?"

The moment, he had heard Dudley's voice Harry had looked down before grasping the ladder in fear when he nearly slipped. Every time the winter boot connected with the light metal, the bottom of the ladder slowly slipped sideways away from Dudley's legs. The top however stayed where it was, forcing the ladder into a gradually steeper angle.

"If you don't stop staring at the lights and get to work, I'll call daddy!" he screamed upwards.

Harry finally tore his eyes away from Dudley as his gloves and shoes began to slip on the rungs. Oblivious to the danger the child above him was in, the chubby boy below gave one last vicious kick.

Harry couldn't remember falling. One second he was looking at the shining lights from eye level scrabbling desperately for a handhold, and the next he was flat on his back on the concrete looking at the same sights from a greater distance. His back hurt and his head was pounding.

Dudley looked down at his cousin and the ladder lying on the driveway, and seemed to realize that he'd gone too far this time. He ran away to avoid being caught. Harry lay there, writhing in pain until the front door opened and Uncle Vernon ran out to investigate. "What's all this? Don't be so clumsy, boy! What were you doing, dancing on there?"  
"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon," said Harry.

"I'd hope you are, boy! I swear you are as stupid as your parents were." Harry's uncle seemed to consider what to do for the boy laying in the driveway for a moment before muttering, "Well come on, let's get you some ice for that head."

Vernon led Harry inside, and gave him an ice cube wrapped in toilet paper. Dimly, he remarked that this was probably the best present he'd get that year and placed it on the sore spot of his skull. After a few moments of rest, Harry began to feel rather groggy. There was a tingling pain on his forehead where his lightning-bolt-shaped scar was that seemed to throb with the rest of his body.

"Hold this to your head, and after it melts you can finish vacuuming the downstairs. Then you can go back to your cupboard and rest until dinner. You have to be careful during chores, we can't afford to take you to hospital all the time."

Even before the ice had melted, the sleepiness was getting difficult to ignore. "Uncle Vernon, I'm really sleepy," said Harry.

"It's just past noon. These chores teach you discipline, and you only have one left today. Don't be lazy, boy."

Harry vacuumed as fast as he could, afraid of what would happen to him if he fell asleep on the carpet, or worse, the stairs. His head was getting foggier, and he had a odd sensation in the area around his scar not unlike static electricity. After finishing up and getting back to his cupboard, Harry took off his glasses and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 

* * *

 

_Harry pushed the vacuum in the Dursleys' living room as Dudley sat watching television on the couch. The sound of televised gunfights filled the room, and Dudley chuckled to himself. His curiosity was piqued and he leant forward to get a look at the screen. He felt himself being pulled forward somehow, and knew that he was going to fall. He couldn't stop it. It was too late. Remaining upright, keeping both feet on the floor, both hands on the vacuum, and maintaining eye level with Dudley, something inside of Harry fell forwards._

_Harry was sitting in his cupboard, drawing a picture of Father Christmas with a small piece of old green crayon. He debated with himself about whether he should add a snowman or an elf to one side of the drawing. An elf would go well with the green crayon. As he bent closer to his drawing, Harry fell forwards._

_Harry hummed to himself happily as he shoveled the sidewalk in front of the house. If he was to be honest, he would have to admit that he liked shoveling snow. It felt a lot like playing, and he sometimes found some of Dudley's old broken toys that he could hide away and play with later. Suddenly his shovel struck plastic. As he bent over to pick up the yellow toy truck buried in the snow, Harry fell forwards._

_Upstairs. Downstairs. Outside. Harry kept falling, faster and faster, each time ending up in a different place. A few times, he found himself somewhere he didn't recognize. An old, strange-looking house. He thought he caught a glimpse of an old woman, but he fell again before he could get a good look at her. Harry fell from chore to chore, drawing to crayon-nub drawing, for what felt like forever._

_Harry looked up at the Christmas tree in the living room, and tried very hard to stay where he was. It took such an effort to keep upright in his head, but somehow he managed it. He wasn't allowed to be so close to the tree! But now that he was there, he wanted to stay and admire it. He sniffed the smell of pine and reached out to touch an ornament shaped like a train engine. 'What am I doing?' Harry wondered. 'I'll be in so much trouble if Aunt Petunia catches me now!'_

_Harry couldn't stop his hand from wrapping around the train and pulling it closer to his face. He stared at it for a few seconds and then let go with a sigh. There was no way he'd ever get to ride on a train like that. Uncle Vernon wouldn't even let him near the car usually._

_He turned around, only to see the gigantic red-faced Uncle Vernon taking up his entire field of vision. He grabbed Harry's wrist, looking ready to explode with anger. "Alright, where is it you little thief?! Where have you put it?"_

_"Where is what?" Harry asked, confused and defiant. "I didn't take anything!"_

_"And a liar too! Your aunt and I took you in and fed you with money from our own pockets. We put clothes on your ungrateful back and what do you do to repay us? You steal our best wrapping paper! The whole roll! Where have you put it? Those no-good parents of yours have saddled us with a monster, and I won't have any of that in this house. You should be grateful that we didn't send you off to an orphanage after the accident."_

_Harry trembled with rage. "...Accident...?"_

_"Of course! Your car accident, remember? Your no-good, drunken slob of a father crashed his car into a telephone pole and you were sent to hospital where we picked you up. You were babbling nonsense about make-believe things because the crash messed with your head. You've gone mad, talking about abnormal things that don't exist."_

_"You're lying! My daddy wasn't a drunk - "_

_"You're the liar!" Aunt Petunia interrupted, having just walked into the living room. "Your father was no good and your mother was no better. You're just like them. If you're going to live with decent people you have to behave decently."_

_"Come on." Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the wrist and shoved him into his cupboard. "And no food until you tell me where you put our paper!"_

_Harry sat unmoving on his cot in the dark of the cupboard, staring at the wall. He had been sent to live with family after losing his parents, but the Dursleys weren't really his family at all. Not in any way that mattered, at least. He wouldn't cry. Sadness, anger, fear, loneliness, and a strange resolve all carved out their own spaces in his mind. These people couldn't make him cry. He hugged his knees and kept staring for a long time. Eventually, he sighed and closed his eyes._

 

* * *

 

Harry awoke with a start. He could hear the noises of televised gunfights coming from the living room, and the faint sound of Dudley's laughter. Harry sighed in relief that his terrifying argument about his parents and wrapping paper had been only a nightmare. He had no idea how he'd ever eat again if it were true, because he would never have been able to tell Uncle Vernon where the paper was. He had truly just not known. Feeling better, Harry decided to draw Father Christmas with one of Dudley's old crayon pieces that he stashed away in a hidden corner of his cupboard room.

He sat up, and saw a faint fuzzy shimmering shape hovering somewhere above his cot. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear it away. Harry put on his glasses but the shimmer remained the same, like static on a television set. He took off his glasses, cleaned them again, and put them back on. It was still there. It was… growing.

As he watched uneasily, the shape grew and spread downwards and forwards in a vaguely triangular shape. It took on form as well, of a figure sitting hunched over on his cot bed. The figure became more and more detailed as he watched, transfixed. First, he could make out a face-like shape, then legs, then arms. It was like watching a photo develop on one of Uncle Vernon's Polaroids.

"Hello," Harry said to the shape, which was now unmistakably that of a child about his own age, "Are you a ghost?"

The shape gave no sign of hearing him. Slowly, it became clearer to him that it was a little girl, sitting on Harry's cot with her arms wrapped around her knees. She wore what might have been a particularly large and ratty dress. No, Harry decided. That's Dudley's old shirt he spilled chocolate sauce on last month. What's she doing with it? The girl had black hair that reached a few inches past her shoulders. As he watched, she buried her face between her knees. Her shoulders moved as if she were sobbing, but he couldn't hear any sound. Harry worked up the courage to touch her shoulder and try to get her attention. Even if he had a real ghost on his hands, she didn't seem to be the kind who would scream "Boo!" or turn into a bat.

Harry's hand passed through the girl's shoulder. His hand tingled as it went through, and he felt the same strange pain in his forehead that he felt after falling off the ladder earlier that day. The girl's head snapped up and her eyes darted around suspiciously. After a few seconds, they seemed to focus in on Harry. Her green eyes were the same shape and color as his own. Now that he could see her face, he noticed a scar on her forehead identical to the one he saw in the mirror every day. It looked red and angry, as if it had recently opened up again or had not completely healed. Her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear a word at first. As she went on, however, he heard a voice that started as a whisper and became louder and louder.

" - to get rid of monsters. I know what to do, you know! So you can just go away, whatever you are. You don't belong in a place like this. Hello?" said the girl. "Oh, so you look like a boy now? That's clever with the scar. What are you doing here?"

"I live here! This is my bed!" cried Harry.

"Is it?" asked the girl, looking completely solid now, as well as completely annoyed. "Are you sure? Who are you?"

"I'm Harry! This is my room and I live here."

"You shouldn't live here. Aunt Petunia wouldn't like you living in here. I'd leave if I could but they won't let me." she admitted, defeated.

"Who won't let you? Who are you?"

Harry was almost blinded by light as his door was thrown open. Uncle Vernon said "Boy! You forgot to put the ladder away. Hop to it now."

"Oh, OK! But Uncle Vernon- " Harry stopped talking as he turned his head back where the strange girl had been just seconds before. There was no sign that anyone had ever been there at all. Not even a speck of sparkling dust


	2. Chapter 2

Harry watched a car pull out of the driveway and disappear into the snowy distance. A big, fluffy ginger cat stared down at him from its perch on a nearby bookshelf. The Dursleys had gone into London for a New-Year's party, and would not be back until the next morning. They had left him with old Mrs. Figg, who was always nice to Harry but not much fun to be around. She always had new pictures and stories to tell about her cats, like Tufty's rude swiping at Mr. Tibbles and Snowy's distressing coughing fits. Today, she was so worried about Snowy that she picked him up and told Harry, "I'm just going to set him down for a nap in my room and watch him for a while. Will you be OK in here, dear? I'm just down the hall if you need me."

Harry nodded eagerly, happy to have some time to himself. Mrs. Figg had given him some paper and a pencil, and he was excited to draw the large kind-looking man he kept dreaming about. "Ok, Harry dear. Stay clear of Tufty's claws, he's a bit snappy right now," Mrs. Figg said, and left through the long hallway to her room. Harry drew a huge circle on the paper for the large man's belly, and a slightly smaller circle on top for his head. He put two big dots on the head for eyes.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of chewing coming from close behind him. Startled, he dropped the pencil. There wasn't supposed to be anyone in the house except for him and Mrs. Figg. Harry turned around fearfully, clutching the paper.

Standing in the middle of the room was the strange thin girl he remembered from his cupboard two weeks before. She was wearing oversized beige shorts and a faded purple polo shirt so big it worked better as a dress. Her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in a long time. She was chewing on an ancient-looking Cadbury chocolate bar and staring at Harry with a smile on her face.

Harry had told the Dursleys about talking to a stranger in the cupboard. Vernon had been extremely angry. He'd screamed and yelled that it wasn't normal to have imaginary friends. His uncle had checked the cupboard for people before locking him in there. He endured a week without dinners for that, and Dudley enjoyed standing in front of his door and saying things like "You don't have real friends. You _smell_." Harry had a bad bump on his head from when he fell off the ladder before Christmas, and wondered if it was causing the faint shimmer on the air in his cupboard with him. He did his best to ignore it, afraid that something weird might happen again if he looked at it too close.

"Hi, Harry!" the girl said, walking up to him. She looked at the paper in his hand. "Is that a snowman?"

"No," said Harry, looking at his crude circles. "It's someone…someone I don't know."

"Oh," she said, and walked over to a window. She stared out at the snow for a while with an odd expression on her face. "Do you want some chocolate? Mrs. Figg gave it to me. She's weird."

Mrs. Figg had once given Harry a bit of her old chocolate as a treat. If that was what chocolate was supposed to taste like, he wanted no part of it. "No thanks," he said.

"It tastes like sand but that's ok."

"Mrs. Figg talks to you?" Harry asked.

"Yep! Mostly about her kitties," she looked around "Do you live here now?"

"No, just today. Aunt and Uncle are at a party." If grownups could see her, maybe she wasn't imaginary after all. But he still didn't know who she was. "What's your name?"

"I'm Rina! And guess what," she glanced around the room again before saying quietly, "I have a secret. Can I tell you?"

"Yeah," said Harry, wondering how someone he made up in his head could even have secrets.

Rina walked up to Harry and whispered in his ear "I got a Christmas present."

"A present?" Harry was jealous. This year he had gotten a tin of beans from the Dursleys and a box of dog biscuits from Aunt Marge. Even that was better than what he usually got.

"Yea! I didn't think I would get any. Uncle Vernon said I wouldn't. But Aunt 'Tunia told me to clean after Dudley's presents, and guess what?" she broke into a huge grin. "There was still one left! With my name on it!"

"What was it?" asked Harry, imagining all the things he would have wished for. He thought of all the presents Dudley opened and imagined they were for him instead. Dudley had so many fun toys.

Rina reached under her tent-sized shirt and pulled something out of the pockets of her shorts. It was an ugly, mint-green lump that had been hidden quite nicely in her oversized clothes. Looking closer, Harry saw that it was a stuffed cat, or had been at one point. The felt on the nose had disappeared and the pink plastic underneath was covered in chew marks. The eyes were chewed as well, and the fur was worn down and had lost all of its softness. "Wibbly!" she shouted gleefully.

"He looks old," Harry said. The old cat didn't look much better than the birthday present he had gotten a year before of a damp and smelly teddy bear that someone had left in the Grunnings lost and found.

"Wibbly's mine," Rina said defensively, pulling the toy into a tight hug. "I've always had Wibbly."

"How was he a present, then?"

"He was gone," the girl said, somehow hugging the thing even tighter. Her voice wobbled as if she was about to cry. "I thought he was gone forever."

"You got him back, so why are you sad?" Harry asked.

"Other stuff's gone too," Rina said quietly. "Only Wibbly came back."

"Maybe they can come back too," Harry said, eager to help. "We can look for them!"

"OK!" she cried, that strange wide grin returning to her face. "Let's try Uncle Vernon and Aunt 'Tunia's room."

Harry was horrified. "We can't go in there! I'll get in big trouble."

"Not if they don't know," Rina pouted.

"They'll know!"

"I need my stuff, Harry," she begged, seeming desperate. "It's not theirs. It's _mine_."

"I can't go in there! I won't!"

"Fine!" Rina spat, giving Harry a truly horrible, scandalized look. She marched over to the couch and sat down heavily, clutching Wibbly with white-knuckled fingers.

Harry returned to his drawing, giving the figure big sausage-shaped arms and legs. He scribbled a beard on its face and tried to ignore the eyes glaring daggers into his back. The Dursleys had said that he wasn't supposed to talk to Rina anymore because she wasn't real, but she seemed real to him. Real enough to get angry. Harry didn't like it when people were angry with him. He did want to help, but he couldn't bring himself to go in his aunt's room, he just couldn't. The last time Uncle Vernon thought Harry was even near their room, he was locked up for a whole month. Eager to get away from the angry stares, he got up and walked down the hall to the door of Mrs. Figg's room.

"Mrs. Figg?" he asked, "Can I play outside?"

"Of course, dear." said Mrs. Figg, "Make sure you wear your gloves and jacket."

Harry didn't have gloves or a jacket, but he did have one of Dudley's old dinosaur sweatshirts on the living room couch. It would have to do. He walked up cautiously to the couch where Rina was sulking. She narrowed her eyes angrily at him as he approached. Harry grabbed his sweatshirt, turned around, and pulled it over his head. He hurried out the front door as fast as he could to get away from the angry girl.

Harry stood in the middle of Wisteria Walk, close to the Dursleys' home on Privet Drive. He could see no one outside in the front yards and sidewalks. The Dursleys had told all of the neighbors bad stories about Harry, so they tended to avoid him. When he did see them, they would watch him like predatory animals, wary of dangerous prey. He bent down and picked up some snow with both hands. He pushed and molded it into a ball, hands growing pink and cold as he held it. He was planning on throwing it at a snow-covered Volkswagen Beetle that he imagined was Dudley, but stopped when he heard a small voice asking "I-Is that for making a s-snowman?"

Harry turned toward Mrs. Figg's porch. Rina was standing pressed against the door, arms crossed and shivering in the cold. She was still only wearing her shorts and polo shirt. There was no Wibbly in sight. Her eyes darted to the bushes as if expecting a monster to jump out at them. She leaned forward and looked both ways down the street, eyes wide and terrified. She didn't look angry anymore. Instead she just looked scared and cold. "No," Harry said, dropping the snowball.

"Oh," Rina said, seeming disappointed. Harry stayed where he was, unsure of what to do next. Then, after what felt like a long time, she asked "Can we?"

Harry had never made a snowman before, but he'd once seen the Dursleys make one in the backyard and had an idea of how it was done. "Sure!" he said, happy that the only person who acted slightly friendly towards him wasn't so angry at him anymore. He bent down and picked up the fallen snowball, and started packing more and more snow on it. When it was big enough, he bent down and started rolling it on the snow in Mrs. Figg's front yard to make it bigger. After a couple minutes of this, he realized that Rina still hadn't moved from her spot on the porch.

"Aren't you going to help?" Harry asked.

"Oh!" Rina cried, seeming nervous. "Y-Yeah. I-I-I'll make the head!" She slowly inched across the porch and down the stairs, still looking around fearfully. When she reached the front yard she made a snowball of her own and started rolling it on the ground. As she pushed the snow around, her nervousness seemed to lessen. Soon they were both smiling and laughing, ignoring the coldness in their hands. For the first time in weeks Harry was actually having fun, at least until he slipped on ice and fell comically in the snow.

"Ow, that hurt!" Harry cried. "Don't laugh!" But it was no use. Rina was doubled over, clutching her sides and howling with laughter. Harry made a snowball and threw it at her stomach. It flew through her and landed in the snow behind her. "Well that's no fun!" he said.

Rina recovered and made a snowball of her own. She hurled it at Harry and it seemed to fade out of existence before it reached him. She frowned. "No fun at all," she agreed.

He had another idea for revenge. Harry ran up to Rina and pushed hard on her shoulders. He felt a dull pain in his scar. She fell backwards, trying to catch herself with her hands as she landed but hit the ground with a thud anyway. She rubbed her forehead with one hand. "I'm sorry!" he said. "I thought I'd go through you!" Without getting up, Rina kicked at Harry's legs and he fell again. She giggled and ran away. He chased after her, and they started up a game of tag. They played for a long time until they finally became tired and returned to their snowman.

Rina lifted up her snowman head that she'd rolled and held it above the big body that Harry had finished. She let go, and it disappeared into the body. She looked down at the base of the snowman and frowned. "What's wrong with it?" she asked.

"Maybe your snow isn't real," Harry said. He rolled his own head as fast as he could, and put it on top of the body. It stayed where he had put it. "It needs arms!" he announced, and raced off to find two sticks buried in the snow. He put two rocks in as eyes, more rocks as the mouth, and a smaller stick for the nose.

"And a hat!" Rina cried. She reached into her shorts pocket and pulled out Wibbly. She tried to set him on top of the snowman's head, but her arm went through the snowman like it wasn't even there. "Oh," she said sadly. "Well, that's ok. We should name him."

"Snowy," Harry decided.

"How about Yeti?" Rina suggested. There was a heavy silence where Harry considered the scarier name. Then Rina spoke up again. "I'm sorry I was mean, Harry. About my stuff."

"It's ok," Harry assured her. "I'm sorry I can't go in their room."

"It prob'ly isn't in there anyway," she admitted, "Sorry."

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"Because Uncle Vernon burned all my stuff," she said quietly. She looked down at the scruffy stuffed cat in her hands. "Even Wibbly."

Before Harry could think too much about that, a voice from the front porch yelled "Harry! I told you to wear gloves and a real jacket! Come back inside, you must be freezing."

"But Mrs. Figg!" Harry called back, "Rina's only in shorts and she's ok!" This actually wasn't true. He looked back at the girl, who had resumed shivering for the first time since she left the porch. Her skin was red where she touched the snow.

Mrs. Figg looked around. "Who's Rina, dear? I hope she went home. Shorts in the snow, honestly!"

"You know Rina!" Harry insisted. "You gave her chocolate!"

"No, sorry dear. That wasn't me. But if you'd like to introduce me to your friends, I'd love to meet them!"

"She's right here," Harry said, pointing at the girl who was now frowning in concentration at him as if trying to solve a difficult puzzle.

"Oh, of course!" Mrs. Figg winked and walked over to Harry. She turned her attention to a spot several feet to the right of Rina. "So good to meet you, Rina. You should come in for tea." She reached out and moved her hand in the air, smiling at Harry and pretending to shake hands.

As Harry followed Mrs. Figg back inside, she continued to ask an empty spot of air what it liked in its tea. Rina followed them in, staying close behind Harry. Mrs. Figg pulled out an extra chair and began speaking to it like there was somebody there.

He glanced at Rina and saw she looked rather thoughtful. It was a rather large shock when she reached out and a chair materialized where the other had been. When she pulled it out, she placed it in exactly the same space as the original was, molding them together before sitting on it.

His face screwed up at her in confusion and she finally looked up at him. When she saw his expression, she began to laugh hysterically. Between breaths she wheezed out, "You're… haha… weird!" Harry couldn't help but giggle as well as she started rolling around in the chair.

"What's so funny Harry?" Mrs. Figg asked as she finished pouring the teacup in front of Rina.

"Rina said you're weird." he answered.

When he finally left, he overheard Mrs. Figg telling Uncle Vernon how cute it was that Harry now had an imaginary friend.

Harry just sighed. He was going to get in trouble tonight. Oh well. Tonight he'd have a friend with him, even if no one else could see her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read so far! And thanks to TheMisprint over at FFN for all the help.

In the cupboard under the stairs of 4 Privet Drive sat a boy, its only resident for the past ten years. Spiders crawled over the collection of crude drawings that covered every surface. Staring into the dark, Harry wondered how things could have gone so wrong. It had been a long time since the Dursleys had been quite so angry with him.

It was Dudley's birthday, and the family had celebrated by taking a trip to the zoo with Dudley's friend Piers Polkiss. Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, forcing them to bring Harry along as well. Dudley had cried about it, and Uncle Vernon had threatened him, but overall it hadn't been terrible. So of course it all soon came crashing down in spectacular fashion.

Harry wished that he'd had his imaginary friend there with him. Rina somehow never seemed surprised whenever weird things started to happen around Harry. The abnormal things that got him into such trouble with the Dursleys only caused her to smile. He had been alone for the zoo fiasco, though. Harry found it a bit strange that for a friend he created to keep himself from being too lonely, she seemed to disappear at some of the times when he needed her the most. This time she had said she was going to Mrs. Figg's house, and seemed confused when Harry had mentioned the old woman's broken leg.

For the most part, Rina seemed to live the same life as Harry. She complained about Dudley's taunts and schemed with Harry about how to get even. She railed against the mistreatment she claimed to receive from Harry's aunt and uncle. They sat next to each other in class, helping each other with their assignments. That is, until Aunt Petunia punished him for getting higher marks than Dudley. Then they worked together finding funny ways of being wrong on assignments, even when they knew the correct answers. On the rare occasions when the questions on Harry's assignments were different from the ones on Rina's, they would answer some of each other's questions on their own papers.

'Which dinosaur had three horns?'

'Purple'

'What color does red and blue make?'

'Triceratops'

Needless to say, Harry wasn't very popular with his teachers after this.

Harry learned over time how to talk to his friend subtly enough that his teachers and classmates wouldn't notice him talking to himself. It looked to him like she was doing the same thing, even though there was no reason for it. It wasn't like anyone could see her anyway. Despite his best efforts, for the first year or two of their friendship Harry often found himself in the school counselor's office. His teachers would also periodically call the Dursleys about their concerns, and the punishments he received were more severe each time this happened.

Not everything about their lives seemed to synch up. Once in a while, certain things would happen to Rina that never happened to Harry. Each Christmas, for example, she would claim to find a single present addressed to her while cleaning up after Dudley's many gifts. Each year she would smuggle the gift into their cupboard, quickly crumple up and toss aside the name card, and open the present with Harry watching. They always had the same beautiful, expensive-looking wrapping paper. It reminded him of the paper that wrapped all of Dudley's presents when he was five. Harry sat alone on his bed, and his thoughts drifted off to those Christmases.

When they were six years old, Harry received a broken Army Man toy that Dudley had stepped on. Rina tore open her present only to find a miniature broom. Harry was ready to apologize to her for what was obviously a cruel joke gift from the imaginary versions of his aunt and uncle, but she only grinned widely and explained that it was her old toy broomstick from the same bag that her ratty old stuffed cat Wibbly had come from. She looked at it longingly for a few moments and set it aside. After everyone else had all gone to sleep that night, she grabbed her toy broom and gestured for Harry to follow her. They were careful to be silent so as to not wake up the Dursleys. They walked into the darkened living room, and Rina laid her broom flat on the ground. As she lifted her hand away from it, it faded and disappeared. She held out her right hand over the spot where she had set the broom down.

"Up," she whispered with a gleam in her eyes.

The small broom reappeared in her outstretched hand. She clasped down on it and climbed onto the broom which was now hovering two feet off the floor. Harry watched in awe as his friend clumsily maneuvered the floating broom through the living room and into the kitchen. She looped around the living room a few more times, and even floated up the stairs and down the upstairs hallway. Rina tried to give Harry a turn on the broom, but his hands went right through it. When they finally returned to their cupboard, Harry broke the silence.

"How did you _do_ that?" he had asked. Harry had never seen Rina do anything like that before. Usually he only imagined her to do things that he himself could do. He definitely didn't see himself as able to fly around the house on a tiny broomstick!

"Well I _am_ a witch, you know," she had replied. "Toy broomsticks are normal."

"A…a witch?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

"Well yeah," she laughed. "How else would I be able to see you? Silly!"

Harry decided to let the subject drop. Since she wasn't a real girl anyway, there was no harm in Rina being a witch if she wanted. He supposed it would be just as easy for her to be a flying gorilla as to be a normal girl, since there were no rules in imagination. That's what his teacher had always said, at least, and they were right more often than the Dursleys. The Dursleys had all sorts of rules, and hated imagination.

Three nights later, the excitement seemed to have gotten the better of Rina. She grabbed her broomstick and started to leave the cupboard. In a panic, Harry stopped her, explaining that Dudley always snuck out of his room at night a few days after Christmas to eat the leftover pudding from the refrigerator. Harry never saw her do it, but Rina must have taken the little broom out again by herself after he fell asleep and been caught. She refused to talk about it, but she didn't leave their cupboard for three weeks, even for school. Harry never saw the toy broomstick again.

When they were seven years old, Harry was given a stick of gum for Christmas. Rina unwrapped what looked like a normal needle and thread set. She grabbed one of her shirts that was particularly ragged and tested it out. When she had finished clumsily stitching one of the holes, she showed it to Harry. He gave a thumbs-up sign, trying to be encouraging. She didn't seem to be very good at stitching, but it wasn't bad for a first try. It didn't seem fun, but this was actually a very useful gift to have. Perhaps he would be able to fix up his clothes as well some day. Maybe then he would be able to make a real-life friend in school.

Rina snapped her fingers and the thread moved on its own, unstitching itself. The hole was back, with no sign that it had ever been fixed. Harry gaped at the thread, amazed. She snapped her fingers again and it re-stitched in the same clumsy way it had been before. She smiled, shrugged, and put the sewing set away in one of the cupboard's hiding spots.

"Thanks, mum," she whispered, voice wavering.

When they were eight years old, the Dursleys gave Harry a hardened old biscuit for Christmas. Rina unwrapped a small bundle of black fabric tied with a strip of leather. She hesitated for a moment, looking unsure, and unwrapped the bundle. Inside was a sealed vial. The inside of the fabric was covered in small thin pockets with labels written on them in cramped handwriting. Harry leaned in for a closer look at the labels. They were covered in funny-sounding names like "Cornelius Fudge" and "Dedalus Diggle."

"What _is_ this?" Harry asked, laughing.

Rina didn't respond. She seemed lost in her own head, not noticing Harry at all. She stared at the names and the vial, and tentatively held a finger over the lid. Slowly, she tapped her finger on the stopper. Once, twice, three times.

On the third tap, the vial exploded outwards. There was a loud bang as Rina hit the wall behind her. Harry shrieked and scrambled backwards, but the huge, imaginary cauldron went through his arm and one of his legs. He kicked himself for being so scared and forgetting that none of Rina's things were real. Nothing she held could ever touch him, which could be annoying when she had something fun to share like a toy broomstick. Now, though, Harry found himself grateful for his inability to touch his friend's possessions. For one thing, it meant that he couldn't smell them. Rina was sitting pressed against a wall, the wind knocked out of her by the large cauldron that was now taking up almost all of the space in the small cupboard. The mysterious liquid had splashed onto her face, and it looked like it had gotten into her nose and mouth. She covered her nose with both of her hands, face scrunched up in a rather sick-looking manner.

Where did the vial go? Did it _turn into_ this thing? The huge cauldron was bubbling with what looked like the same strange-looking liquid that had filled the small and comparatively innocent vial only moments before. It seemed to disappear into his small and unsteady cot bed. Rina, panicking, appeared to have burst out of her earlier stupor. She swiftly reached out her other hand and tapped the side of the cauldron with her index finger three times. The cauldron instantly disappeared and the vial reappeared in its place in the center of the bed.

"No, no, no, no, _no!_ " Rina cried. She quickly grabbed the vial and rewrapped it up in the black fabric. She raced over to the corner of the cupboard and hastily shoved the bundle into one of Harry's favorite hiding spots. She hurried back onto the bed, seeming to make an effort to be quiet. She snatched one of the bottles of liquid cleaning products from the shelf above them, and pulled it onto the bed. Harry could see that the real bottle was still on the shelf, of course.

Harry watched, flabbergasted, as Rina opened the bottle and dumped it out all over the bed and floor. She slapped both hands on her nose again, and expression went from looking sick, to looking like she was trying very hard not to _be_ sick. Had she gone completely mad? Why would anyone spill such foul-smelling stuff on purpose? He couldn't smell Rina's imaginary version, but he had used that stuff before and it had been the worst odor he'd ever smelled. Rina's head snapped toward the cupboard's closed door.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon!" she whimpered at the door. "It was an accident."

"It fell! I guess it was open. It spilled." she cried again. "I'm sorry. I'm _sorry_!"

Her eyes shifted to an empty spot on the floor and widened with fear. "That paper…I don't know how that got there! I've never seen it before! It's probably Dudley's and stuck on my shoe! I don't…I don't know –"

Her arm jerked upwards and she floated up and through the door, leaving Harry alone in his cupboard. A shriek of pain was the last thing he heard before she faded.

Hours later, when she came back, she had a glazed look in her reddened eyes and winced when she sat down on the cot bed.

When they were nine years old, Harry's present was half of a plastic comb. Rina received a simple-looking old leather-bound notebook. She opened it up and Harry looked inside. It was full from cover to cover with stream-of-consciousness notes on a number of different subjects. Only a few, though, were about anything Harry had ever heard of before. For every mundane detail like 'Cats don't like it when you stare at them,' there were twenty silly things like 'Perfectly Pimpled Potion for Pests' The handwriting looked like it belonged to a child a little bit older than them, but he couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. Actually, looking closer, it looked like it was written by two different people. The handwriting alternated as if the notebook had been passed back and forth.

Rina snapped the notebook shut and hugged it tightly, eyes filling up with tears. Eventually, she put it away in the same hiding spot she'd placed the odd bundle and sewing kit. As time went on, Harry would occasionally see her pouring through the notebook almost religiously. She must have read the entire thing at least a hundred times in the year that followed.

On their most recent Christmas, at ten years old, Harry unwrapped a sample-size tube of toothpaste. Rina entered the cupboard after Dudley's present-fest and stared at the wall without sitting. She leaned against the door, arms crossed over her chest, looking lost.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "No present this year?" Harry tried not to be jealous of Rina's presents, which was easy enough. It's not like the gifts were usually anything that Harry could possibly want anyway. They didn't seem to bring his friend too much happiness, either. Still, he felt a guilty sort of satisfaction that she might be in the same boat as him this year.

Rina moved her right arm slowly away from her chest and reached her trembling fingers into her other sleeve. She revealed a small present, long and thin, and held it in front of her in a shaking hand. She looked at Harry with pleading eyes, as if begging him to understand something important.

"Well, open it then," Harry said, confused. "Let's see what it is!"

"I _know_ what it is, Harry."

"I don't," Harry countered. "And I want to see it."

Rina looked away from Harry and back to the strangely-shaped package. She set it down gently on the bed and knelt down next to it. At Harry's next urge, she slowly unwrapped the paper. Inside was a strange black stick. It was thin, with a thicker spot on one side. That end had intricate designs on it, and Harry leaned in for a closer look. Before he could see, though, Rina delicately gripped the stick by it and held it out in front of her. She swished it downwards and a stream of sparks shot out of the thin end of the stick, lighting up the small room.

"I guess it's really mine now," she said, with an awed yet still troubled expression.

"What _is_ that?" Harry asked.

"A magic wand," Rina stared at the wand and looked like she was trying hard to be excited for Harry's sake. "My magic wand. See? I _told_ you I was a witch."

"You did say that," Harry said. He thought back to that long ago Christmas where Rina had ridden on a broom and called herself a witch. To the weird cauldrons and strange notebooks that followed. There were a lot of things about this that he didn't understand, but one stood out in his mind more than the others.

"Where is all this stuff coming from?" Harry asked. "You always act like you've seen these things before. Where does it come from? Who's leaving it for you?"

"I don't know," Rina answered. "You're right, though, I have seen this stuff before. It's all from that same bag that Wibbly was in."

"But didn't you say Uncle Vernon burned that?" Harry asked. "These things don't look burned."

"He did!" she cried, face growing red with anger. "He did burn them! It was all I had! That bag was all I had left of my home! My parents! And he _burned_ it!"

The wand in her hand emitted a blinding red light and Rina shrieked as she was thrown against the door by a powerful blast. She quickly recovered and hid the wand under her clothes, laid down on the bed, and closed her eyes. A few seconds later, her shoulders jerked forward and floated jerkily out of cupboard. Harry could see imprints in her arms that looked like large hands, bruises already forming.

Harry was shaken out of his memories by a hand waving cheerfully in front of his face.

"Hi, zoo boy!" Rina greeted him. "How was the zoo? Did you see your family in the monkey house?" She stuck her tongue out at him and cupped her hands around her ears. "Ook ook ook, Hairy monkey Harry!"

Harry laughed halfheartedly. "I don't really want to talk right now," he mumbled.

"Why not?" she asked, stopping her antics and looking genuinly concerned. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I think I made it happen."

Harry told her the about what happened that day at the Reptile House. Rina listened intently, nodding in interest until he finished his story. She stared at him for a while afterward in obvious confusion.

"What do you mean it _answered_ you?" she asked. "Snakes don't talk."

"This one did," Harry said. "I think. Maybe I didn't hear anything after all."

"You talked to a snake and it answered you?" she asked again, this time looking slightly nervous. "That's not possible."

"What do you mean not possible?" Harry asked. "You can fly on a broom _,_ make small weird things turn into big weird things, and you have a magic wand that shoots out twinkly lights! How is hearing a snake talk so amazing? I probably made it up, anyway. I hear _you_ talk all the time!"

"It just is," she said. Her eyes narrowed. "Prove it."

"Prove it? How?" Harry asked. "I can't go back to the zoo. I can't even leave the cupboard! Besides, that snake is probably halfway to Brazil by now."

"Not that one, then" Rina said, rolling her eyes. She left the room without another word.

Rina returned a few minutes later, looking shocked. She flopped down on the bed and said "Um, you can come out now."

Harry's eyes were drawn to Rina's left arm. A baby grass snake slithered out of her sleeve. As they watched, it wrapped itself around her hand. "This is Harry," she said to the snake, pointing at him. It bobbed up and down and turned its head to look. It looked back to Rina and tilted its head to the side.

"She can't see you," she said to Harry quietly. "She said that. The snake. I heard her. And why can't animals see you? I figured they could."

"See?" Harry said. " It's not that weird."

"But it is," she insisted. "I can't believe I…" She turned her attention back to the snake. "Do you want to go back to the yard now?" Rina looked like she was listening to something, but Harry couldn't hear anything. She smiled. "OK then!"

The little snake slithered back up Rina's sleeve. She settled in on the bed, smiling and a small lump shone through her shirt at her chest. "I think I just made a new friend."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos/subscriptions/reviews, they really make my day to see! And thanks again to TheMisprint over at FF.Net.

School had already let out for the holidays by the time Harry was allowed to leave his cupboard after what had happened at the zoo. After he was finally free, he was outside most of the time wandering around the neighborhood with Rina. Dudley and his gang's favorite game was called Harry Hunting, so finding new ways of avoiding them was always at the front of his mind. The little grass snake had apparently decided to stick around, so Harry spent a lot of time around the local park while Rina let it hunt for crickets.

Sitting on a park bench, the two kids had an animated discussion about their upcoming school year. Since they would both be going to the local public school, they would finally be away from Dudley and Piers for most of the day. Those two bullies were going to Smeltings, a private school. It was the greatest gift that life could have given them.

"Dudley's probably not going to be the biggest kid anymore over at Smeltings," Harry said, smiling. "At least, not in age. He's only a first year. Imagine what will happen if he crosses one of the older boys. Won't stop them if he's still the biggest around the middle."

"Yeah!" Rina agreed. "And anyway, he thinks his dumb school is so great. I'm sure he thinks he's special for going there. Just picture the look on his face when I get my letter! It should be coming any day now."

"Letter?" Harry asked.

"I bet he'll be jealous," Rina continued. "He'll pretend not to be, but he will. Of course, I won't show it to him until I finally leave. I don't want any of them getting in my way."

"Leave? Why would you leave?" Harry asked, dropping the stick he had been playing with. "What are you talking about?"

"Shh! I hear Gordon!" she squealed. "Quick, let's get out of here."

They scrambled away from the open area of the park, making a detour through the bushes. Rina retrieved the little snake that had been slithering around invisibly in the dirt. Gordon was one of Dudley's friends, part of the Harry-Hunting gang, but Harry could see no sign of him. He suspected that there was no Gordon nearby after all, but there wasn't any sense in risking being caught in case Rina was right for once. She could sometimes be very wrong, though. Sometimes the girl would grab his arm and whisper urgently 'They're right behind us!' only to lead Harry straight into Dudley or Piers who had been ahead of them the whole time.

As they walked much farther away from Privet Drive than they usually ventured, Harry wondered to himself why his friend might possibly be leaving. He didn't want to be left alone with only the Dursleys for company. He kicked a rock down the street, dejected. Eventually, Rina became so visibly agitated and nervous by their increasing distance from the Dursleys' house that they turned around and returned home in time for dinner. _No one too scared to even walk a few blocks from home is going to leave for real,_ Harry reassured himself.

Two days later, Harry awoke to a terrible smell. As he went into the kitchen for breakfast, he saw Aunt Petunia at the sink with a tub full of disgusting rags in grey water. She explained that the rags were going to be his new school uniform. _So much for making friends at my new school,_ he thought.

As he was about to sit down, Harry heard the sound of letters coming through the mail slot and was sent off to retrieve them. As he grabbed the mail, he was floored by the sight of a letter addressed to him.

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

As he turned around to bring the mail back to the Dursleys, he saw a familiar shimmer careening down the hallway from the direction of the kitchen and disappearing into the cupboard under the stairs. Still entranced by the mysterious envelope, Harry wandered back into the kitchen and handed the rest of the mail to Uncle Vernon.

Just as he was about to open the envelope, it was snatched out of his hands. Harry yelled that it was his letter and he should be allowed to read it. Vernon and Petunia, visibly unsettled, kicked both boys out of the room.

As Harry fought with Dudley about who could listen in from the best part of the door, he heard a whisper coming from behind his right ear.

"It came! My letter, it came!" Rina whispered, almost vibrating with excitement.

Dudley won the fight, and Harry knelt down on the carpet to listen beneath the door.

"Watching – spying – might be following us –"

"I slid it under the cupboard door. They have no idea," Rina continued.

"Shh!" Harry spat, trying to hear what his aunt and uncle were saying.

" _You_ shh!" Dudley barked, kicking Harry in the shoulder. "I want to hear!"

"No. No, we'll ignore it - "

"I'll need an owl," Rina insisted. "I need to send an owl!"

Harry shoved her knee in an effort to get her to be quiet.

" – I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear – "

"Help me find an owl, Harry. I can't go alone."

"No! SHH!" Harry cried, more frustrated than he thought he'd ever been in his life. He didn't have time for more of Rina's unique brand of crazy talk at the moment.

"FINE!" she yelled, stomping back in the direction of the cupboard.

Dudley kicked Harry in the head, sending his forehead slamming into the door. The door was pulled open violently and a red-faced Uncle Vernon picked Harry up by his shirt.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, BOY?" he demanded.

"Harry was snooping around!" Dudley announced. "He was listening in!"

Vernon berated Harry about this for several minutes until he looked at his watch.

"I won't let you make me late for work. Cupboard! Now!" he yelled, dragging Harry down the hallway and throwing him into his cupboard before slamming the door behind him. "You stay here until I get back!"

As he sat alone on his bed, Harry mentally kicked himself for letting the Dursleys see his letter. He should have hidden it to read later, away from prying eyes and hands. This was the sort of mistake that Rina liked to make fun of him about. _She has no right to laugh,_ Harry thought. _She's much worse at staying out of trouble than I am. Always making noise and getting in their way. It's like she can't learn how to be ignored in this house._

Harry sat, fuming, and wondered what that letter could have possibly been about. He was sure that he would never know, because there was no way that the Dursleys would ever give it back to him now. Maybe he would have been able to hear who sent it if his annoying friend hadn't messed it all up with her nonsense. What was that bit about owls, anyway? Harry had an urge to ask about that, but he was alone in the cupboard at the moment. _Well, let her go look for owls if she wants one so badly_ , he thought. _Maybe it will bite her fingers._

After Uncle Vernon got back from work that evening, he visited Harry and said that it was time for him to move into Dudley's second bedroom. As Harry sat on his new bed listening to Dudley complaining about losing his storage room, he felt conflicted. He was happy to be in a real room for the first time in his life, but he would have traded it away in a heartbeat for one look at his letter. Also, Rina didn't seem to be joining him in his new room. After over five years he wasn't used to being alone anymore, and so the new room was somehow lonelier than his tiny cupboard had been.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry discovered what it was like to lose his appetite in the face of a full plate. He only rarely was given a large amount of food, and he usually treasured those meals and ate them greedily. He poked his eggs with a fork, and piled them on top of each other.

"I have to go back to the cupboard now," Rina whispered as she passed the kitchen table. "I don't get breakfast today. I only made it."

"Why?" Harry mumbled under his breath, still a bit upset and waiting for an apology. This was the first he'd seen of her since she'd stormed off the previous morning. She was walking awkwardly in a huge and ugly grey outfit that looked an awful lot like the smelly rags Aunt Petunia had been dying the previous morning.

"I left. All day. Without doing chores," Rina looked quite proud about this. "I had to get to an owl."

"Not this again," Harry groaned to his water glass.

"When are you coming back?" she asked. "It's lonely with the spiders."

"I'm not," Harry whispered. "I live upstairs now."

"WHAT?" she cried. Her head snapped to the right. "Sorry, Uncle Vernon!"

Rina left the kitchen, gesturing for Harry to follow. He forced himself to eat a few bites of his eggs, then went into the now-empty cupboard. There was no bed anymore, no drawings or clothes. But there was still a girl, leaning against one of the walls and frowning.

"Why are you still in here?" Harry asked. "What are you playing at?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Rina retorted. "What are you doing up there? Why would they let you live up there with them?"

"It's only Dudley's second bedroom," Harry said. "I think my letter upset them. I'd know more about it if you would have let me listen yesterday! But no, you had to babble about owls. You got me into trouble. I didn't eat anything all day until dinner!"

"You got a letter yesterday too?" she seemed very interested about this development. "What was it about?"

"I don't know," Harry sighed. "Uncle Vernon took it and wouldn't let me read it. The envelope was this weird yellow paper. Whoever sent it knew I was living in the cupboard. I think that's why they moved me."

"But that sounds like mine!" Rina exclaimed. "Only wizards get those!"

"Wizards?" Harry asked, impatient.

"Or witches," she continued. "I got a letter just like that, Harry. But why would you get one? I don't think you're a wizard. I don't really know what you are. But maybe this means you can come with me after all!"

"I have to go do the dishes," Harry said. He was still upset that he hadn't gotten an apology, and wasn't in the mood to hear yet more nonsense about witches. There was no point in asking what her letter was about, because Rina only knew things that Harry also knew. That's what his teachers had always told him, at least. Harry didn't think he'd known some of the things she told him about, but he supposed they could all just be made-up nonsense.

If Rina wanted to stay in the cupboard forever, maybe he should just let her. He was about to turn eleven years old, and was already much too old to have fake playmates. He'd have to grow out of it someday, he knew, and the summer leading into secondary school was as good of a time as any. Harry left the cupboard without another word.

"There's another one!" Dudley cried as Harry emerged from the cupboard, holding a familiar envelope in his hand. This one was addressed to Harry at 'The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive.'

"Miss your old room, Harry?" Dudley asked, sticking out his tongue. "You should give mine back, then!"

"Upstairs!" Uncle Vernon snapped at Harry before he could reach for the letter clutched in Dudley's fist. "To your room. Now!"

Over the next several days, a plethora of letters for Harry arrived at the house. Vernon had taken to staying home from work and burning the letters, becoming increasingly unhinged as time went on. Harry came up with plans to grab letters without the Dursleys knowing, but none worked out. Rina had usually been the one to come up with their clever plans in the past, with Harry being the one with the courage to actually follow through with them.

On Sunday, Vernon reached his limit and told the family to pack their bags and pile into the car. As he was about to leave, Harry snuck into the cupboard.

"I'm leaving now. I don't know when I'll be back." Harry said.

"WHAT?" Rina cried. "Why would you leave?"

"My letters keep coming and Uncle Vernon wants to run away from them," Harry explained.

"Leaving won't stop them," she snorted with a sad smile. "They'll just follow you wherever you go. Don't leave. Tell them not to leave."

"Why would they ever listen to me?" Harry mumbled.

"What about our birthday?" Rina demanded. "The countdown! Won't you be back by then?"

On their birthday, Harry and Rina had a tradition of sneaking into the living room and watching the clock strike midnight. Rina usually disappeared later in the day, to spend time with someone Harry couldn't see but who she seemed to have nothing but contempt for. Listening to her speak, it didn't seem like she was talking to Dudley. He wondered who else could elicit such a strong disdain from her. However, whatever happened during the day, they had never missed a birthday countdown in the last five years.

"We'll probably be back before then, don't worry," Harry said. "Besides, you can always just appear where I am if you really want."

"What – "

"Everybody out! Time to go!" Vernon shouted from somewhere outside the cupboard. "Into the car now!"

"Look, I have to go," Harry said. "I'll come and see you when I get back. Bye."

"Bye," she whispered back.

Feeling slightly guilty, Harry followed the squawking Dursleys into the car and off into the unknown. The whole week had been the most surreal experience of his life. He wondered if some of this craziness might have come from his own head, and that soon he wouldn't know what was real and what wasn't.

He thought about his birthday, and the possibility of spending it alone for the first time that he could remember. His friend might not have been real, but she was all he had. What would he do if even that was gone? The Dursleys would never let him make a new friend, even if he went to school by himself. They would find a way to interfere, even if only through hideous elephant-looking uniforms. They would go to great lengths to not even let him have a single letter.

Harry elbowed Dudley in a way that could be easily passed off as an accident. Dudley was too upset about missing his favorite television programs to even retaliate. Harry looked out of the car window, settled in, and wondered what was going to happen next.

Harry was on the floor, next to the couch where Dudley was sleeping soundly. He gazed intently at Dudley's pocket watch as it started ticking its' final revolution before midnight. The Dursleys had hardly stopped for breath in the days since they'd left Privet Drive. At each they stopped, there was already a letter waiting for Harry. The broken-down shack on an ugly rock in the middle of the sea didn't seem like the kind of place a family like the Dursleys would ever deign to visit, but then again this had been a week of surprises.

3...2...1… "Happy birthday, Harry," he muttered to himself. "Happy birthday Rina," he added a little bit quieter. With a small sigh, he blew on the 'cake' he'd drawn in the dirt imagining some grand party for himself and Rina.

Harry had prayed and hoped against hope that he would be back at Privet Drive before the 31st so he'd not disappoint his friend. He felt slightly guilty for letting his annoyance get the better of him, and wished he had said something nicer before he left. He could just imagine her sitting in front of the clock, quietly watching as it struck midnight.

There was nothing he could do about it now. In his head he tried to rationalize not being there. It was all the Dursley's fault, after all. He'd been a victim of their cruel stupidity.

Absentmindedly, he realized just how bad the storm was outside. The waves were rumbling deeply against the rocks and the wind was howling fiercely. If it got much worse, it'd blow down the door.

A yawn escaped Dudley as he opened his eyes, startling Harry. "Is that you making all that noise, Harry? I oughta call mum and dad down here so they can get you to - "

Bang!

"Mum! Dad!" Dudley yelped.

Bang!

The door shuddered once more as Harry's aunt and uncle appeared on the stairs.

"What's going on down here?" Vernon demanded.

Bang!

Vernon paled slightly and Petunia yelled at him to get the shotgun.

Bang!

The bolt over the door cracked. One more blow like that, and the door would go down. Vernon leveled the barrel at the door and waited with baited breath. No one in the cottage moved or breathed, waiting, watching.

With a final thud, the door fell forward, out of its frame. Behind it, wreathed in flashes of lightning and a wreath of rain stood the largest, hairiest man Harry had ever seen.

A small, familiar voice in the back of his head spoke up.

'Is that a snowman?'


End file.
